Inspiration: That Touch of Mink

I had a mostly lazy weekend, and Doris Day films featured prominently in my activities. Have you seen That Touch of Mink? It's such a fashion treat! The clothes are done by the great Norman Norell, and there's a fantastic personal shopping scene. This is one of my favorite conceits of movies of this time: the personal fashion show! (There's a great one in How to Marry a Millionaire, which I also happened to watch this weekend. No wonder I didn't get any sewing done.)

The best thing about this particular scene is the coat at the end. It has a fur lining and interchangeable shells in satin and wool. How fascinating is that? (I also love the pink satin and lace pant ensemble toward the middle.)

It seems like the two layers connect somehow at the center front but otherwise the fur lining just sits inside the outer shell. It would be fun to do something similar with the wonderful faux furs they're making these days. 

I highly recommend the movie for that scene alone, but also the stunning strappy dress that feels both modern and perfectly vintage.

It's also well worth a watch for the scenes with Doris Day and her best friend (played by Audrey Meadows) communicating through the windows of the automat.

Apparently automat workers had the cutest uniforms ever. Who knew?

I hope you got more sewing done than I did this weekend!

Sewing Scenes: Magic Mike XXL

Well, there's a title I didn't expect to be writing! Life has been a little heavy lately, and I decided that going to see Magic Mike XXL was the perfect remedy. I went with a group of six rowdy ladies, which is really the only way to see this show. It was spectacular.

I have a lot to say about this movie, starting with: sewing! There's a fabulous montage (God, I love a montage) where the ragtag bunch of "male entertainers" is getting ready for their big show, and it involves lots of DIY. There's a great little shot of a handheld sewing machine stitching along on a costume. These guys really do it all!

Of course, handheld sewing machines are notoriously terrible and there's no way an entire costume could be sewn on one in a pinch, but I'll suspend my disbelief.

(Side note: the first Magic Mike also included sewing, with the perfect Joe Maganiello as "Big Dick" Ritchie sewing a gold thong.)

If you have any desire at all to see this movie: run, don't walk! to your nearest theater. Not only is it a big, campy male stripper road trip odyssey filled with lots of eye candy, it's an unexpectedly feminist film. There's tons that could be said about the politics of female sexual desire, but what's more striking is the politics of female happiness.

These guys make it their mission to get their customers hot and bothered, for sure. But their primary goal in two instances is to get them to smile. There's a Joe Manganiello convenience store strip scene that will go down in history, the point of which is to get the dour cashier to grin. And he does! The crowd goes wild!



Which leads me to: male strippers are hilarious. They just are. They don't even have to try. I laughed my head off for two hours, as did my friends. Personally, I think that's the real secret to why women love this movie.

(Hey, I didn't say it was the only reason women love this movie.)

So, have you seen it? Will you? Please share your thoughts! The crafty feminist blogosphere needs to weigh in on this one.

Inspiration: The Talented Mr. Ripley

I've been on spree of reading mystery novels, mostly contemporary. But when I came across a used copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley, a 1955 novel by Patricia Highsmith, in an L.A. bookstore, I snapped it up. For those not familiar with the plot: it's the story of an amoral conman (Tom Ripley) who becomes obsessed with a rich young playboy (Dickie Greenleaf) living in Italy. Tom does everything he can to come between Dickie and his close friend Marge, finally cooking up a plot to kill Dickie and assume his identity.

Of course, this work is primarily known as the 1999 film starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow. But the book is pretty wonderful: the disturbing and violent elements are perfectly tempered by Highsmith's lush 50s Italian summer scenes. It's easy to see why Tom gets caught up in this world of privilege and glamour (the food descriptions alone make me want to drop everything and move to Italy). The narrative is told through Tom's point of view, giving insights into the character that the film lacks.

Fashion is a huge part of both the movie and the book, and the film's costume design won an Academy Award. Clothes represent so much in this world: lifestyle, status, privilege, and identity. In one of the most cringe-worthy scenes, Tom goes into Dickie's room while Dickie is out. Tom tries on Dickie's suit and hat, even imitating Dickie's facial expressions in the mirror, while fantasizing about killing Marge out of jealousy. Of course, he is caught by Dickie, and that's the moment their friendship begins to turn sour. (I could barely stand to skim this scene, it was so embarrassing.)

The character of Marge is fascinating, clothing-wise.

She dresses in a sort of boho resort style, in crisp white shirts tied over bikini tops, espadrilles, and peasant tops and skirts.

One of the book's more telling passages relates to Marge's clothing, in a way. Tom catches a glimpse of Dickie and Marge embracing, and his reaction is one of utter disgust.

What disgusted him was the big bulge of her behind in the peasant skirt below Dickie's arm that circled her waist. And Dickie--! Tom really wouldn't have believed it possible of Dickie!

There are two chief interpretations of this scene: that Tom is a misogynist or gay (or both). While the movie portrayed Tom as gay or bisexual (later becoming involved in a sexual relationship with a man), author Patricia Highsmith maintained that Ripley wasn't gay, just sociopathic in his need for devotion from Dickie. And clothing was hugely symbolic to him. He later spends whole evenings looking at Dickie's clothing, saying that material possessions "reminded him that he existed."

Cat Blanchett was a supporting actress in the film, in a role created specifically for the movie. There's not much to say about that, except that her clothes are fabulous.

How darling is this sweater? The trim could be easily added to an existing cardigan (check out my post and how-to on soutache).

The nipped-in waist on this suit is to die for.

And my favorite, her opera gown with an embroidered shelf bust and floral embellishment.

All in all, both the book and the movie are of definite interest to vintage fashion enthusiasts. Have you seen or read it?

Fashion and The Hunger Games

There's something distinctly uncomfortable about critiquing the fashion in The Hunger Games. In the book, clothing is a marker of the role one plays in a totalitarian regime: the villians are futuristic Marie Antoinettes, with a grotesque interest in adorning themselves--we're supposed to be disgusted by them, not covet their fabulous clothes. The victims have other things to worry about than fashion, like staying alive.

So it was strange to me that some well-known voices from the fashion industry would choose to haughtily express their disdain for the movie's costumes in a New York Times article, and to do so in a way that was completely oblivious to the politics of fashion in the film. A sampling:

• The costumes “looked cheaply made,” said Joshua Jordan, a fashion photographer who has done campaigns for Anna Sui and Neiman Marcus. “You wanted it to bring you to an evil Thierry Mugler place, and it didn’t. It has nothing on the fashion business.” 
• Olivier Van Doorne, the head of SelectNY, a fashion advertising firm that makes commercials for brands like Emporio Armani and Tommy Hilfiger, agreed. While he liked the film, he said he found the outfits “ridiculous.” “ ‘Blade Runner’ gave a vision of the future you’d never seen before,” he said. “With this, there’s nothing new. It looks like a lot of recycling stuff Jean Paul Gaultier had done before.” 
• “This is not a fashion film. It looks too cheap.”--Sally Hershberger, celebrity hairstylist
• Paul Wilmot, the public relations guru who has worked for designers like Oscar de la Renta and Calvin Klein, simply called the film’s costumes “hideola.” (This did not appear to be a compliment.) 

"Hideola"? Can these people hear themselves? They're practically critiquing the Hunger Games fashion in the voice of the Capitol residents themselves, sniffing at the "cheaply made" outfits of the lower classes. The irony is too much to bear. Sadly, their whining points out that the world of Panem (the Hunger Games's dystopian North America) is not so far off from current North America. Can't you just see these folks in their Effie Trinket get-ups, thumbing their noses at the poor people's outfits while watching them fight each other to the death?

Not that the costumes are exempt from critique--just thoughtless critique. And I'm not suggesting that the fashion industry outsiders are blameless. Far from it. When I saw the film last week, I found myself transfixed by Katniss's blue dress that she wears at the reaping, the public drawing where two kids from each district are chosen participate in the Hunger Games.

In fact, it reminded me of a retro dress Betsey Johnson designed a few years ago. A quick online search for "Katniss blue dress reaping" shows that people have built entire Polyvore sets around this dress. There are also at least a dozen YouTube videos showing you how to achieve her braided up 'do. I too loved her dress and hair, but not without a sense of major discomfort, an icky feeling that in Panem, I would be more of an Effie than a Katniss.

Did you see the movie? What do you think of the fashion industry's reaction?

Bill Cunningham, Fashion Monk

Happy New Year, readers! I'm settled back in New York after a lovely vacation, and last night Jeff and I watched Bill Cunningham New York (yay, Netflix streaming!). I was truly blown away by it; it is certainly the most inspiring fashion documentary I've seen.

It follows a period in the life of 80+-year-old Bill Cunningham, style photographer for The New York Times. His two columns, "On the Street" and "Evening Hours", portray a vast array of New York fashion, from street to society.

But the most intriguing thing is his personal life. As I said to Jeff last night, he's sort of like a fashion monk. He was one of the last hold-outs to live in the Carnegie Hall artist studios, and believes in simple living to the point of asceticism. He works constantly, roaming the streets on a bicycle--wearing the same thing every day, eating the same meals. His tiny studio has no kitchen, and he sleeps on a wooden platform surrounded by filing cabinets that hold negatives of every picture he's ever taken. He's never had a romantic relationship, and goes to church every Sunday.

And his work philosophy is certainly admirable: he's inspired by the way real people wear clothes on the street and in life. His approach to fashion photography is very kind-spirited and never mocks his subjects. One of his first jobs was at Women's Wear Daily, but he quit after an editor changed his copy to make fun of the women he photographed.

Have you seen this film? If not, do! I think DIY types will especially appreciate his down-to-earth take on fashion. It's a great reminder of why we do what we do. As Bill quoted tearfully in an award acceptance speech: "He who seeks beauty shall find it." (Just try not to get choked up when he says it!)


Bill Cunningham New York Trailer from Gavin McWait on Vimeo.

Sewing Scenes: The Tailor of Gloucester

Uh oh, I spy more singing, sewing mice! Rodent seamsters represent an enduring literary and cinematic trope that cannot be avoided, it seems. And all for the better, I say. Reader Lucy referred me to the animated version of Beatrix Potter's The Tailor of Gloucester. (I also highly recommend reading the original book, all of which is available online here.) How sweet and apropos it is, as we're tailoring our own coats!

This animated short film is available in 5 parts on YouTube and it's well worth a watch (I've posted the first part at the bottom of this post). In it, a group of little mice prove to be quite competent little sewers when a tailor falls ill and can't complete the mayor's wedding day ensemble on time. I'm sure we sewists can all relate to the poor tailor's feverish dreams of embroidery and buttonholes to be completed! And of our cats sabotaging our sewing, but that's another story altogether.

I also learned a couple fun facts while researching The Tailor of Gloucester. First, it was written in 1903 but it's based in the mid 1700s. Hence, the clothing was period dress even for the author. Beatrix Potter researched the tailored men's clothing of the period at the non other than the V&A museum! She wrote this to her publisher:

'I have been delighted to find I may draw some most beautiful 18th-century clothes at the South Kensington Museum. I had been looking at them for a long time in an inconvenient dark corner of the Goldsmith's Court, but had no idea they could be taken out of the case. The clerk says I could have any article put on a table in one of the offices, which will be most convenient.' (source)

The article points out that the clothing was so thoroughly researched that you can recognize the pieces Ms. Potter used as inspiration, like the embroidered waistcoat below, which remains in the museum's collection.

Here is one of the charming illustrations, in which you can clearly see the inspiration:

As to the second fun fact. Apparently, Ms. Potter presented the book to her own tailor, who passed it along to the trade publication The Tailor & Cutter. The publication reviewed the book on Christmas Eve 1903 and said the following:

 . . . we think it is by far the prettiest story connected with tailoring we have ever read, and as it is full of that spirit of Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, we are not ashamed to confess that it brought the moisture to our eyes, as well as the smile to our face.

Aw! Now you guys are gonna bring moisture to my eyes!

Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy the first part of The Tailor of Gloucester. If you're eager to get to the animation, skip to around 2:30. And then do go enjoy the other four parts; you won't regret it! (Unless, that is, you have some sort of vendetta against singing mice.)

Sewing Scenes: Pretty in Pink

Whew, we've been sewing hard this week, readers! Time for a little break with an installment in the sewing scene series, where we look at stitching scenes in popular movies. Here's one I've gotten several requests for: Pretty in Pink.

An excellent movie. Though I was a little young for it when it came out, I did—for some inexplicable reason—have the novelization. (Ah, the life of a young bookworm.) As I recall, the book had great descriptions of Andie's DIY New Wave style and, of course . . . THE dress. I did finally see the movie in recent years and it is a charmer, in the way that teen romances of this era so often were.

Funny side story: I saw Easy A this week, and the main character has a scene where she laments that modern teen life isn't like a John Hughes movie. (Sing it, sister.)

Another funny side story: there's a short sewing scene in Easy A! Have any of you seen it?

But back to the movie at hand.

I think it came as a bitter disappointment to vintage-lovers everywhere that Andie took this fabulous 50s prom dress . . .

 . . . and turned it into this.

Ah well. We all have young fashion missteps for sure—it's just a sad day when a lovely vintage dress has to die for them.

The dressmaking idea at the heart of the movie, though, is that Andie takes something that isn't quite right and transforms it so it works for her—and so that it, in turn, transforms her. And isn't that what so many of these film sewing scenes are about? 

What are your thoughts on THE dress, readers? Did you like it when the movie first came out—or has your opinion of it only soured with time?

Sadly, I was unable to find a video clip of the montage where she makes the dress. Please let me know if you can find it. In the meantime, take a trip down memory lane with the adorable trailer:

And the Award for Most Badass Sewing Scene Goes to . . .

No more singing mice, ladies. Things are about to get fierce up in here.

Reader Amy took issue with the girly sweetness of prior sewing film scenes explored here (Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty) and proposed something with a little more bite, if you will: Selina Kyle's transformation into Catwoman in Batman Returns, as portrayed by Michelle Pffeifer.

I gave it a watch, and damn. This is some powerful stuff. To start with, it's visually stunning. The film was directed by Tim Burton, and his trademark aesthetic shows through in every shot. Also, there's something very retro about Selina Kyle (though I suppose the aesthetic of comic book films is, in general, very retro). We first see her in this lovely cocoa-colored suit. I know she's supposed to look mousy here, but look at that amazing vintage tailoring!

Her transformation into Catwoman is full of pathos and rage, and it all takes place in her girly, super-retro apartment. She refashions a vinyl trench into her kickass cat costume with wild handstitches and the help of a vintage Belvedere sewing machine.

Amazing stuff. I do remember seeing this film when it came out in 1992, and I only recall being freaked out by the way she was acting all unstable around her cats. (Someone think of the kitties, please!) I'm not a huge Batman fan (much to Jeff's chagrin), but this film obviously warrants a re-watch as an adult. As reader Amy put it, this scene is chock-full of the symbolism of her transformation. There's something completely captivating about this character who takes her rage and sadness and sews it into a new persona. See it for yourself below.

All together now: "I don't know about you, Miss Kitty, but I feel so much yummier."

Disney Sewing Scene Smackdown!

Wasn't it so fun looking back at the sewing scene from Cinderella last week? However, I think I may have been a bit hasty to call that dressmaking scene the best ever. You see, a couple commenters reminded me of the sewing scene in Sleeping Beauty. I watched it again, and it left me wondering: how could I have forgotten this gem? I've always loved the dress the fairies finally produce (with magic, rather than their own hands and wits) and I wrote about it as one of my favorite movie dresses of all time. But I had a complete lapse of memory when it came to the scene where they attempt to make said dress (and bake a rather dubious-looking cake). I'm so glad you helped me rediscover it, readers, because it is brilliant and hilarious.

How delightfully bitchy these fairies are! (Merryweather: "It looks terrible!" Flora: "That's because it's on you, dear.") Oh, and the priceless sewing moments! Flora's interpretation of a how a hem is formed is pure genius: why, you just cut a hole in the fabric and drop it over the wearer's head til it falls to the floor. (Flora: "Well, it's got to have a hole in the bottom." Fauna: "That's for the feet to go through!")

Have a watch of the clip below (turn your volume all the way up; the sound isn't so great). And then do tell: in a Disney sewing scene smackdown, who's your choice for the win? The highly-proficient mice of Cinderella or the fabulously catty fairies of Sleeping Beauty?

Cinderella: Best Dressmaking Scene Ever?

I'm just going to go right out and say it: I don't think there's a more memorable sewing scene in pop culture than the one in Cinderella. Last month, I posted about the most cherished movie dresses of my childhood, and I was delighted by how many of you mentioned "Cinderelly's" dress, sewn by her little mice and bird friends.

I re-watched this scene last night (see the full clip below), and I was amazed by how vividly it brought back emotions and memories; I hadn't realized how strongly these images were imprinted in my mind. As a kid, I loved the mice ladies measuring out the trim, the cutting of the ribbon at the perfect length, and especially the illustrated dressmaking book they consult (hmm, there's a little foreshadowing into my adulthood!)

For the fellow femi-nazis in the house, there is a depressing little line from one of the female mice when one of the guys tries to help out: "Leave the sewing to the women, now you go get some trimmin'." (Though it must be noted that one of the men is shown sewing later on in the scene.) I did have to wonder: would the line have been the same today? Can you imagine a modern animated movie where the dude mice help out with the sewing? I'm honestly not sure either way, but it's an interesting thing to ponder.

Big questions aside, I think the best thing is that memories of this film span several generations. Though the Disney film debuted in 1950, I loved it as a child in the 80s, and it remains required viewing for kids today. And no matter how much time goes by, the sewing scene is firmly established as a part of our cultural memory. I loved Austin Scarlet's remark on an episode of On the Road with Austin and Santino (which you know is one of my favorite shows ever) that he wanted to sew a dress together with "little mice hand stitches." I think we all know what pop culture phenomenon he was referring to!

And now, for your enjoyment, the beloved scene. Can you feel the nostalgia up in here?

Favorite Film Dresses of My Impressionable Youth

One of my favorite inspiration books is Dressed: A Century of Hollywood Costume Design. (A fabulous book, by the way.) I was flipping though it recently and it got me thinking back to movies that I loved as a kid.  I adored musicals and any other especially theatrical films, and when I look back on these beloved films, I always remember the dresses. (Starts early, eh?) So here's a little trip down my pop culture memory lane: my favorite film dresses of my childhood. Won't you join me?

Sleeping Beauty

My early tastes were simple: sparkly ballgowns! The final dress in Disney's Sleeping Beauty (which changes from pink to blue and back again, you may recall) was a definite favorite. I could never decide if I liked it best in pink or blue! Ah, the dilemmas of childhood.

Mary Poppins

I revered Julie Andrews (still do, actually). I'm hard-pressed to pick a favorite film of hers, but the costumes in Mary Poppins definitely win out. And the red and white dress above is the most beautiful of all! (According to my inner five-year-old, that is.)

My Fair Lady

My Fair Lady is filled with beautiful costumes, but this black and white ensemble is arguably the most fantastic. My younger self did not catch the satire in its over-the-topness; I thought it was just right. And I still think those black and white stripes are a touch of genius.

Pollyanna

I'm sorry, was there a moral to this film? I totally missed it because I was too busy looking at the clothes. This one has it all: a fabulous shopping spree, adorable boots, and great sailor dresses.

Pretty Woman

Whew, that was quite a shift in subject matter, wasn't it? I had to put this one right after Pollyanna, because they actually remind me of each other: two poor girls get, ahem, "adopted" by rich folk, taken on the best shopping montages ever, and then live happily ever after. I wasn't allowed to see this movie until my later teens. Yeah, yeah, prostitution is adult subject matter. Again, I'm just here for the clothes! I loved her dress at the races best of all. Matching hat alert!

Clueless

A great fashion movie! I'm sad to say that this film inspired more fashion disasters for me than fashion successes. (Anyone else try to emulate the thigh-high and mini trend? That ensemble screams "working girl" way more than anything Julia Roberts wore in the aforementioned movie!) But it was a fashion moment. So much so that Calvin Klein recently brought back the white mini dress that was the centerpiece of an entire scene ("Cher, what are you wearing?" "A dress!" "Says who?" "Calvin Klein!"). It can be yours for $915.


I suppose that's enough from me (though the fact that I keep thinking of other examples hints at a second post on this topic in the future). How about you? I'd love to hear your favorite film dresses from your childhood! Don't be shy.

Coco Before Chanel: Hot Androgyny

So, I realize I am probably the last sewing blogger in existence to see this film. But I finally did! It's still playing at the Paris Theater (very appropriate, non?) here in New York, and it is so worth seeing. It's visually mesmerizing, and it made me want to bob my hair and traipse about in some slinky men's pajamas, a tailored jacket, and high heels. (But then I realized that no one can pull off that look like Audrey Tautou.)

The menswear looks were just so chic, and they made up the majority of Coco's bold wardrobe.

Coco was set in sharp contrast to the "painted lady" look of her time. She ridicules these women, comparing their jewelry to silverware and their hats to meringues. To be honest, I thought perhaps her message was being hammered home just a little too strongly, that she protested a tad too much. (Not that it stopped me from enjoying the movie.)

The film goes out of its way to highlight her subversive sexuality. During two separate steamy scenes, her lover makes very telling comments about undressing her: "I've never undressed a boy before" and "You're always so easy to undress." Interesting, eh? Homoeroticism and easy access = hot, apparently.

I loved seeing the inspirations for her famous looks, like when she swipes one of her English boyfriend's polo shirts. When he goes to reclaim it, she asks, enthralled, "What is the material?" "Jersey," he replies. It's fun seeing this from our modern vantage point, when we know that Chanel will later revolutionize women's wear with the use of wool jersey.

In another moment of inspiration, Coco watches a group of fisherman in striped sweaters hauling in nets from the sea. And what does she wear in the next scene? You guessed it.

The sewing moments are also fascinating. At one point, we witness Coco drawing a pattern freehand onto some rich black fabric. A swipe of chalk, and she improvises the sleeve cap! Incredible.

When Coco at last wears her iconic ivory and black boucle suit at the end, I admit that it was somehow a little disappointing compared to her daringly subversive earlier looks. My disappointment surprised me, considering that's the look Chanel is associated with. It should have been the perfect visual conclusion to the film. And then I realized: through my modern eyes, that suit symbolizes a sort of prim, conspicuous wealth - not iconoclasm. As one of my movie-going companions put it at the end of the film,"It's interesting how the Chanel empire now stands for everything that Coco was against." Couldn't have said it better myself.

How about you, lovely readers? Have you seen this, or are you planning to?

Julie & Julia: a Sewing Blogger's Impressions

When I tell people about the concept of my blog, I've often gotten the response: "It's just like Julie & Julia!" At first, I was reluctant to agree. I wanted my project to seem unique. But, let's face it: this blog is really just like Julie & Julia. But with sewing.

I've come to terms with that. Working in book publishing, I know that it's very common to hear new projects explained by what they have in common with successful ventures. A manuscript will often be pitched by an agent as "Twilight meets Harry Potter - but with zombies!" or something ridiculous like that. But, however absurd, this kind of pitch does actually accomplish the goal at hand: to make the reader understand the new project by adding context of an already established project.

And anyway, the similarities really are inescapable. In Julie & Julia (the book), an underemployed 30-year-old New Yorker with a sweet husband and a passion for cooking decides to start a blog project in which she cooks every recipe in an old cookbook and writes about it. In my humble story, an unemployed 30-year-old New Yorker with a sweet husband and a passion for sewing decides to start a blog project in which she sews every pattern in an old sewing book and writes about it. (Not that I'm saying Vogue's New Book for Better Sewing has the following of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Let's not be silly!)

So fine. I am the Julie & Julia of sewing blogs.

So, since the film version of Julie & Julia released today and both Jeff (the sweet husband) and I had the afternoon off, we decided to go on a little date. I put on my full, gathered skirt and first we went to the little French restaurant across the street for croque monsieurs and Oranginas. (Is there anything more festive than an Orangina? I don't think so.) Then we walked over to the neighborhood cinema to see the film.

So, as you might know, the movie is based in equal parts on two books: Julia Child's My Life in France and Julie Powell's Julie & Julia. I was very struck by how both women's stories were about having a passion for something, and sharing it with the world in some medium. It was also about how that singleness of purpose plays out within the confines of a marriage.

In the Julia Child story (in which Meryl Streep is completely delightful), Julia's obsession with her art seemed to bring her closer with her husband, and the relationship story was one of utter adoration and support. In Julie Powell's story, her obsession veers into narcissism and causes her to alienate her husband.

My husband tirelessly listens to me talk about my sewing and my blog, and I hope that each of us having creative pursuits is something that unites us rather than divides us. In any case, the movie was a good reminder to me that the point of having a creative outlet is to connect us with the world, not disconnect us from it.

I was struck again by the many moments in which Julie Powell's story mirrored mine. The thrilling moment when she published her first post. The day she turned 30, an age which suddenly didn't seem so scary now that she had a bigger project in mind for her life. The meltdowns when projects went awry. The triumphs when they didn't.

In any case, the movie gave me a lot of food for thought (ha ha). Oh, and the clothes! Julia Child's story takes place, in part, in 50's Paris, and there was a party scene in which she was wearing a divine silk shirtwaist - with pockets!- and I thought how all you vintage pattern fanatics would die over it. Fabulous.

Do any of you plan on seeing this? I'd love to hear your thoughts, as creative types and as bloggers.

P.S. For the record, I want Zooey Deschanel to play me in the movie version of my blog.